


Final Moments

by ArcherStabbyStab



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Death, Just a glimpse into her life, Unknown Soldier - Freeform, the Final Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherStabbyStab/pseuds/ArcherStabbyStab
Summary: Distantly, I register that I am no longer fighting alone, that someone tall and strong is standing at my back, protecting me as I am protecting those around me, and I wish I could turn to see who it is, to tell them that I’m already dead and that they need not protect what they cannot save. But then I think that I am too tired and maybe it would be hypocritical of me to tell them not to protect me, when I won’t be able to save them in the end and I am protecting them anyway.





	Final Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a thing I was considering making something out of, but I didn't know where I wanted to go with it, so I figured I'd post as is and see what you guys think. 
> 
> Thanks for reading:)

****The blade piercing my side reminds me of my mother, of her bitter voice and cold as steel eyes as she cast me from her side and swore to the clan elders that I was an abomination. The magic has left my fingers in retaliation before I even think of a spell, a lightning so hot and so blue that my assailant is left as a charred corpse in less time than he’d taken to slay me. I press my hand against the wound that is sharp and jagged where the metal has torn through my armor and impaled the fragile flesh beneath, staggering as I feel my life’s blood slipping steadily through my fingers, faster with every beat of my heart. I barely register the next attack, my body moving on autopilot as my brain trips through shock and panic and then resignation as it comes to the logical conclusion that my death is imminent and almost certainly final. There is magic flashing around me, loose and free for the first time in several centuries, lashing out at my enemies like a fiery whip, leaving not except bones where before stood templars and mages and demons alike.

_“As is tel din ma’ ashalan, ar dirth ma!” My mother hissed, slapping away my hand when I reached for her skirts again. The elders glanced between themselves before looking back at my mother, their faces dark and unrecognizable in the memory. “Ma lasa ash sal’shiral, Athdhea.” Their words brought such hatred to my mother’s face as she looked down at me that my younger self had flinched away from her instinctively. I had never before feared my mother, but in that moment, I saw my death in her eyes and knew she was my mother no longer. She was a hunter and I was her prey. She is not my daughter, she’d said. Maybe I truly wasn’t._

I lose time, between one kill and the next, every movement more sluggish than the last, every breath more ragged and painful. Around me, the war moves on as swift and fierce as it had begun, though surely almost a full day has passed in the fighting, the Inquisitor’s forces slowly pushing back the tide of the magister’s army. Somewhere, the Herald herself is racing to destroy the would-be god and fix the sky once and for all, before more innocent lives are lost to the chaos. Distantly, I register that I am no longer fighting alone, that someone tall and strong is standing at my back, protecting me as I am protecting those around me, and I wish I could turn to see who it is, to tell them that I’m already dead and that they need not protect what they cannot save. But then I think that I am too tired and maybe it would be hypocritical of me to tell them not to protect me, when I won’t be able to save them in the end and I am protecting them anyway. So I push on, fumbling for my last lyrium potion. It taste like water as it runs over my tongue, and does little to replenish my mostly depleted reserves, but I refused to let that stop me, not when these are my last moments.

_“Era’harel!” My mother screamed. I ran as fast as my short legs would carry me, fearful of her wrath should I not be prompt enough. “Ar’m min, lanalin!” I squeak as I throw myself on my knees before her, my head bowed in submission. The sting of her whip across my shoulders draws a cry from my lips before I can stop it, making the whip fall again and again until my tears are silent and my tongue bleeding from where my teeth have bitten it to keep from shouting. “What have I told you?! Sil’ahn em! What have I told you to never do?!” She demanded, bringing the whip down when I didn’t answer immediately. “A-ar ady tel din a-ama ma melenal, lanalin. Ir abelas, lanalin. Ir abelas.” When the whip didn’t come down again, I relaxed a little, thinking this bout of punishment was done. “Ar ame tel din mar lanalin.”  I am not your mother. And the whip fell once more._

I don’t remember falling, but suddenly, I’m lying face up on the battlefield, staring up at the green tinged sky as it explodes in blinding light and a shockwave that knocks everyone who is still on their feet off of them. Though it hurts and I can’t see, I refuse to close my eyes, blinking rapidly to dispel the light so that I can see the sky once more. Where once there was a hole, I find a vague, green scar, swaying gently against the vibrant blue like the victory it is. A sigh escapes me as I watch it, listening as the cries of joy go up around me. Ironic that that small line of green reminds me of my mother too. Of her last moments, her gaze that was usually so hard softened with a love I didn’t think she would ever direct at me.

_“Ir abelas, da’lin. Ar ema lasem ma ir nu.” I have given you much pain. I cradled my mother’s hands in mine, bending over her cot in the healer’s tent so that she didn’t have to speak loudly to be heard. Her long white hair brushed against them as she drew them to her face, kissing them with softness for the first and the last time. “Ar unnuvena to dhrua ma, ehn is ga ar unelana tel din ea, dea deal de den tel din geron ma’lath.” I wanted to believe you, who is all I could not be, were not worth my love. “Ar dea deal de den telithal, da’len.” I was blind. “In Vindhru, ma’ ashalan, ma’ sa lath. Ar nuven ma shasha.” In truth, you are my daughter, my one love. I wish you happiness._

Her final words to me ring clearly in the cheers of the soldiers as I finally let my eyes fall shut. Somewhere above me, a deep voice is yelling at someone to hurry, but it’s drowned out in fog that has taken over my senses. I think that maybe my mother should have asked for forgiveness in her last moments, but also that I am grateful she didn’t. In that time, I wouldn’t have given it, even to ease her passing. I was sad to tell her goodbye only because it meant I was alone in the world. I was to be cast from my clan after her burial and I had no ties anywhere else. If anything, I would have resented her more for trying to go in peace when she was leaving me in such turmoil. Now though, as I float into death’s arms, I think I will forgive her anyway. After all, it was because of her that I have survived as long as I did. I spare a thought to the Inquisitor and her companions, to their survival and the future of the Inquisition, but it is fleeting in the oncoming darkness closing in and I know this is it. I didn’t know death would be this way, gradual and easy. But there’s no time to consider it as I sink finally into oblivion and can think no more.


End file.
